


How I Miss Yesterday

by pricingham



Category: Scream (1996), Scream (Movies)
Genre: M/M, Murder, Suicide
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-07-14
Updated: 2016-07-14
Packaged: 2018-07-23 22:07:42
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 589
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7481757
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/pricingham/pseuds/pricingham
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"But if I go to hell, will you come with me or just leave?"</p><p>The only way Billy knows how to deal with loss and pain is with the cold barrel of a gun and a bullet.</p>
            </blockquote>





	How I Miss Yesterday

**Author's Note:**

> guess im back with writing ¯\\_(ツ)_/¯  
> and of course its a sad fic lmao enjoy it ig
> 
> title + lyric in the summary are from two panic! at the disco songs bc im emo trash

"Say hello to your mother." And with that and a quick slash from the buck knife Sidney was bleeding out on the floor beneath him. Billy turned to Randy, short in breath from the adrenaline, and did the same. Then he picked up the gun, before getting up slowly, still trying to collect himself. He swallowed and closed his eyes, taking a deep breath as his hand flexed against the gun in his hand. He'd killed them all, yet something felt... Wrong. Out of place. As if something were missing. "Stu, fuck," he breathed, his eyes shooting open. "Fuck, fuck... Stu!," he called.

No answer. The entire house was as silent as it had ever been. Silent enough for Billy to hear his own anxieties and fears, and he  _despised_ it.

"Stu...?," he called again, more softly this time. When he got no reply (again) he walked over to the kitchen, his heart pounding. Empty. Billy bit his lip and walked through the kitchen, toward the living room. His heart stopped midway. "Oh, God, no," he whispered, breathlessly. He felt his stomach turn, and his throat close up, and his breath stopping. He could barely feel his hands as they shook terribly - to be quiet honest he couldn't feel anything but the tears as they kept coming. It couldn't be happening, not to him, not to  _Stu_.

It lied in front of him. His... Christ, he didn't want to say body, let alone corpse... His best friend. The only person who showed genuine care toward him and whose care he actually reciprocated. Billy shook his head lightly in denial, walking up slowly to Stu.

"Stu...?," he managed, through the lump in his throat. "Stu, please..." Billy knelt next to him, eyes on... Not his face. On the TV. Suddenly filled with rage toward whoever had done that to him he invested it in moving the TV and getting it off Stu's face. It was burnt and bleeding and Billy felt like he hadn't been struck with such grief since his mother had abandoned him. "It's okay," Billy whispered as he ran a hand through Stu's hair and pulled out all of the glass shards from his burnt face. "I love you," he sobbed, pressing a small, soft kiss to Stu's forehead, then to his brow and finally to his lips. "Oh, God, I'm so sorry. It's my fault. I should have shot the bitch. I'm sorry, Stu." And he cried, and cried, and cried, his sobs almost drowning his self-blame and pain and his loss and the awful, awful pit in his stomach. He sniffed, grasping at Stu's sweater. "You promised me you wouldn't leave... You promised you wouldn't do the same as my mom..." Billy looked up at Stu and let a breath through his nose. He sat up and eyed the gun. It was the only way he'd be with Stu. The only way he'd be at peace, and happy. He picked it up with trembling hands, checked the bullets, and held Stu's hand tightly with his free hand. "I've always wanted to do this," he said with a breath-like laugh, putting the barrel of the gun under his chin. "Thanks for being there for me, Stu... See you in Hell."

A loud bang. Blood sprayed over the furniture. Eyes peacefully closed. Hands touching each other lightly. Without all the gore, one could only see a couple that had had too many shots. Unfortunately, the gore was there. The reality of a massacre, of a failed plan.


End file.
